[hr][hr][center][img]https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/66/35/9b/66359b140b5931448603e01be5033b6f.jpg[/img][color=olive][h1]GRAHAM[/h1][/color][b]MESS HALL, NEW ANCHORAGE
[sub]AROUND NOON[/sub][/b][/center]
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[i][color=olive]How the hell did Red-Star allow this kind of soldier to even exist?[/color][/i]

Michael Graham couldn’t understand how Alexander Sky was even real— at least in their shared profession and similar backgrounds. Even in the years where Graham drove the battlefield with youthful abandon and had a love with flirting with everything he saw… especially after what happened following the Elysian War he was always mindful of his behavior when in the shadow of his betters. It did not surprise him that Red-Star possibly was going to dispose the young pilot when he outlived his usefulness. In the corner of his mind he wondered how he was going to tolerate his antics on-base. This was why he preferred certain personality types to others; give him an assortment of clones of Stein, Eli, Agatha, and Tahlia any day of the week. 

[i][color=olive]Not a bad idea. Note to self— hire a geneticist in the future if I can afford one.[/color][/i]

Graham’s thoughts seemed to go on as he looked at some of the other new pilots— Penny looked like she was thinking intently on something and Yeshua was… doing some obsessive compulsive motion with his hands as he seemed to be fully distracted to pay attention to the “older” pilots or even Graham. This was the son of [i]Otto Horowitz[/i]? The ace of Paragon? This is his gene pool? He had never met Otto, but this was quite the surprise. The boy looked the part of a [i]librarian[/i], not a pilot. But then again Graham knew full well manners out of machine never exactly were ensured to be the same in the machine. At the very least he was sufficiently curious to how the eccentric and silent youth was going to turn out here at New Anchorage. 

Before he could consider any sort of introspection a voice spoke up— Tahlia’s.

[color=f9ad81]"Graham? I do have a question— why do we have children, here, on a military base?"[/color]

To some it was the million dollar question and to others it was a fact of military life. It really depended on how you viewed children at the end of the day— and for Graham there was a multitude of reasons. He turned to look at Tahlia as he held the synth in-between his index and pointer finger on his right hand— smoke still fuming from the metal cylinder. 

[color=olive]“So I can test them for neural plug compatibility and see their value.”[/color] He commented nonchalantly before adding on to the statement. [color=olive]“They are civilian residents due to the fact that they have little alternatives to go to. Both wards have been deemed to be safer behind the walls of this base then in some sad excuse for an orphanage or alternative guardian— hell, Moore is the only guardian that little girl has. I’m not damning her to an orphanage when she has a father right there to lead by example; and Jackspar’s ward is applying for civilian employ.”[/color]

[color=olive]“It’s also in both Moore and Jackspar’s contracts as incentive to stay on. So I guess there is a few reasons.”[/color] He said as he placed the synth back in his mouth.